


A Means to an End

by IveGoTaBADidea



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:49:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IveGoTaBADidea/pseuds/IveGoTaBADidea
Summary: This is a fan fic written to mimic the style of the series author, Cassandra Clare. I do not own her characters or similar plot lines, etc and so forth. All intellectual property belongs to those who originally authored it. Please comment and let me know what you think.This story is a sort of "what-if" situation as I haven't finished reading the series yet and I want certain characters to end up together. It begins after Tessa tells Will that she and Jem are engaged and continues from there with characters entrances and new locations in London I thought would be fun to include.





	1. Chapter 1

1

MADNESS BLAZING

 

 

_“Don’t provoke me- wretched headstrong girl!_

_Or in my Immortal rage I may just toss you over_

_Hate you as I adore you now—with a vengeance.”_

_—_ Homer’s _The Iliad_

 

 

 

            The roof of the Institute was a sanctuary, a safe haven in which he could disappear, but over the course of a fortnight its purpose had changed. Leaning on his forearms, Will Herondale considered this as he stared into the darkness. It no longer gave him a quiet place to think. It no longer offered him any form of solace.

And it no longer belonged solely to him.

            “Will, what are you doing up here?”

            His gaze dropped from the stars above and he sighed. “I _was_ trying to escape you, Cecily, but it would seem as though my plans were for naught.”

            “Always such the gentleman,” she replied sarcastically, joining her brother at the rail.

Since seeing her brother in the flesh for the first time in years, Cecily had been studying the differences between the man now and the boy she remembered. And the differences were many. She and Will were very much alike in appearance though his eyes were a bit of a darker blue—deeper and filled with more secrets and pain than they had ever been. Gone was the unbridled joy of the boy who ran with her through the fields in Wales and tugged the ends of her braids with affection. In truth, the young man who stood before her was as different from the brother she knew as sunlight differs from water.

His gaze cut to her face and their eyes met briefly. “Did you need something in specific, Cecily? Or would you prefer I puzzle it out myself?” His voice held a hint of annoyance.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. And then there were moments when she caught brief glimpses of the old Will.

“As much fun as that sounds, Charlotte has called for dinner and by the time you figured that out,” she teased. “I’m afraid it would have been cold.” Cecily reached forward, ignoring that he stiffened as she did so, and seized his hand.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered.

Sighing, Cecily moved closer and threaded her arm through his. “Will,” she said gently. “You look half starved. You must eat something.” She felt the argument in his stance and cut him off before he could respond. “She isn’t here, Will.”

Will swallowed hard, staring more intensely into the gloom. _Tessa._ A sharp, familiar pain shot through him and he pushed it away viciously. _How did she know?_ His eyes cut to his sister and saw her jaw set stubbornly, prepared for the eruption of an argument, but as quickly as it had surfaced, the fight left him. _What is the point of hiding it from her?_ He began to form the words, but she cut him off and he was grateful.

“Henry has requested that you attend for a rather specific reason,” she informed him lightly, pulling him away from the rail and toward the attic hatch. “It seems that they have invited a guest.”

Will felt the skepticism on his face. “A guest? What kind of guest?”

Cecily waved a hand flippantly, as if the question were a trivial one and led him down the stairs. “Oh, a Downworlder artisan or something equally ridiculous. Come along, Will,” she groaned, tugging on his arm while his heels dug into the floor. “Honestly, you’re being a child.”

Will felt a smile, a genuine smile, curve his lips for the first time in weeks and let her jerk him forward the last couple of steps toward the dining room.

Pushing him from behind, Cecily grumbled, “Honestly, Will! You’re being an ar—”

“Magnus?” Will interrupted, shocked to see the warlock seated at the table. “What are you doing here?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Cecily stumble forward as he stepped away, turning her face toward him in confusion.

“You know him?”

Magnus inclined his head, ignoring the question. “Good evening, William.”

Charlotte cleared her throat, but threw a slightly quizzical glance at Will. “Magnus has helped the Enclave before and has proven himself a trustworthy ally, Cecily.” She spared another glance between the warlock and Will. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so familiar.”

Shrugging, Magnus gestured to the two empty seats and replied, “After you have dealt in an undercover mission with someone, it would be bizarre to call them by anything less than their given name, Charlotte.” His cat eyes sparkled. “Or would you prefer I call you Mrs. Branwell?”

Cecily took the seat furthest away from the warlock while Will slipped in beside him.

“Of course not, Magnus. We are friends, are we not,” Charlotte replied.

            As she settled into her chair, Sophie entered the room, followed by the cook and began serving supper while Will leaned toward Magnus. “What are you doing here?”

            Without looking up from his potatoes, Magnus replied, “I needed to speak with you and as you have not been returning my messages, a personal visit became necessary.”

            “What are you two whispering about?”

            Both looked to their left to see Cecily glaring at them down the table. Will straightened and patted her on the head the way he knew she hated. “Cecy, the adults are trying to have a conversation and as you are neither A nor B in this conversation, you ought to see your way out of it.”

            She sneered. “Oh, you’re so clever, William. Clearly you’ve outwitted me.” Nevertheless, she turned her attention away from them and Will was satisfied, but upon turning he realized Magnus was now in deep conversation with Henry. Will ate in silence, listening to the conversations around him and contemplating the texture of the stew’s potatoes, which he was disappointed to admit were far too mushy for his taste and set aside his fork.

            But that was not the worst of it because, at that precise moment, Will’s nightmare was made reality as Jem ghosted into the room with Tessa at his heels. A shudder rocked through Will and the table shook with him though no one, save Magnus, seemed to notice. However, Cecily’s eyes narrowed to slits and her hand found her brother’s arm at the sight of the couple.

            Will’s eyes met Tessa’s gray ones for a split second, but that brief glance was all he needed to propel himself out of the chair and into the hallway with a half-spluttered apology and a weak excuse.

            Tessa stared after him, her heart constricting to a nearly unbearable pressure. It nearly crumbled when Jem left her side to chase after Will. Jem had barely vanished from sight when Cecily rose from her seat as well, with a frown and accusing glare directed at Tessa. “If you’ll excuse me” was all she said before leaving the dining room after her brother.

            Even Magnus, who was usually a lively and vibrant being, seemed subdued by the couple’s entrance and he pat the napkin to his mouth. “Well, I’ll be leaving before I catch the same.” He rose from his chair, bowing his head toward Charlotte and Henry briefly. “Thank you for supper, but I should be on my way. Good evening.” His path led him passed Tessa and as he exited, whispered with a half-smile on his face, “You certainly know how to clear a room.”

            Tears sprang to Tessa’s eyes, but she forced them back by staring at the lantern’s flame and fought the lump in her throat. “Excuse me, Charlotte. There must be a bug going around.” She fled to her room, slamming closed the door and gasping for breath as the tears began to spill over. _Stupid. I’m so stupid._ How had she expected it to go, really? That she, Jem and Will would all be one big, happy family? No. They could never be that, but if she were honest, it was what she wished for. Because denying Will was hard enough, she wasn’t sure she could bear to lose him completely.

 

…   &   …

 

            “Will!”

            Jem’s voice carried down the hall, echoing off the walls and surrounding Will, magnifying his misery. It was almost as if Will’s nightmares were haunting him, laughing at him as they tortured. It was almost infinitely worse when Cecily’s voice joined in the search, but Will did not stop. He passed his bedroom, the weapons room, the library. _Tessa_. His mind rejected even the thought of her name and he threw open the door of one of the unused bedrooms, crossing the floor to the window. Sliding the glass pane out of his way, he slipped out of the Institute and into the grounds before crossing the lonely London streets.

            Shoving his hands into the deepest recesses of his coat pockets, Will trudged through the empty streets to the Square with nary a glance in either direction until he reached Nelson’s column in the center and the four lions that lay at its base. To the thousands of mundanes that passed this structure, it was nothing more than sculpture but being Nephilim, Will knew better. This was the entrance to Purgatory and the lions stood as its guardians.

            And he could swear that one of them just blinked at him.

            “I woon’t do that if’n I were ye,” slurred a voice from the darkness.

            Will whirled to see an old man seated on a bench, wearing a tattered coat and three layers of hair on his face while holding a nearly empty bottle of gin in his hand, unsheathing a seraph blade as he did so.

            The man hiccupped and swaggered to his feet. “Right nasty brutes at the bes’ o’ times. Whachu wanna stir ‘em up fer?” He stumbled, only just managing to catch his balance as he fetched up against a lamp post. The light revealed his dark skin under the mess of bedraggled black hair while his dark eyes widened in an effort to focus on the ground before him.

            Will took a step back. “I wasn’t planning on stirring them up,” he said, replacing his seraph blade in his belt. “I came to find some peace.”

            The old man laughed, nearly choking on breath. “An’ you run straight t’ the gates o’ Hell?” He coughed, pressing a fist to his mouth; it came away bloody. “Boy, yer mo’ wrecked than m’self.” Seating himself on a nearby bench, the man waved for Will to join him and took another deep swig from the bottle.

            Advancing a couple steps toward him, Will refused the offered drink and the seat. The old man was a mess and he smelled like something had died before rolling around in it. If he had runes cut into his flesh, Will could not see them nor any other marker that named him a Shadowhunter. The suspicion must have been written plainly on his face because the man groaned and took another swig.

            “M’ name’s Jakobi Shababadad.” His face screwed together, confused. “Tha’s not righ’. Shabbabadoo. Shumanahumana.” He threw his hand out in frustration and lost hold of the bottle, which crashed and shattered against the cobblestone. “An’way don’t madder ‘bout m’ name. Poin’ is, I bin keepin’ these gates fer near on three decades and I ain’t ‘bout t’ let no—” Jakobi pitched forward and spewed the contents of his stomach onto the street.

            And nearly onto Will’s boots.

            Jakobi wiped his hand across his mouth and sat upright slowly. “Y’ain’t openin’ those doors, boy.”

            Will glanced at the menacing lions again. “Why would I do a fool thing like that?” _Get lost in the seedier parts of London, maybe. Drop himself into the middle of a nest of ravenous vampires, definitely, but opening the gates to apocalyptic chaos. No way in Hell. Literally. Figuratively. Metaphorically._ “I know the creatures that take up residence in that brimstone encrusted prison. In fact, I’ve sent a few there myself.” He glanced toward the sickly looking Jakobi and fished a piece of cloth from his pocket, handing it to the old man. “So you have about as much to fear of me opening that forsaken Trap as you have to fear of doing it yourself.”

            Jakobi nodded a bit weakly in reply.

            Will studied him with a measure of disgust and shook his head. “Not that you could stop me if I did intend to set those devils free, soaked as you are.” He moved to rise just as a vise snapped shut around his forearm. Jakobi was on his feet faster than Will thought possible for a man his age and his strength was more than that of any Shadowhunter he had ever heard of.

            “Jak. Release the boy.”

            Will felt the bone-breaking pressure ease and glanced in the direction of the voice just as a familiar figure stepped out of the darkness. “Magnus.”

            “Good evening, William. You disappeared before we could have our talk.” Jakobi backed away as the warlock advanced toward them, hovering in the background like a phantom. Magnus spared him a glance and addressed him quickly. “I will keep an eye on him, Jak.”

            Will watched the old...whatever he was, it hardly seemed adequate to call him a man now, turn and disappear into the night. “I knew I hadn’t overlooked him,” he muttered.

            “Jak is a magog, Will, a protector of London.” Magnus informed him, adjusting the gaudy baubles on his fingers. “I thought you, of all people, would know all about them. Though I suppose not many have seen a magog face to face. I do wonder how that whole business about them being giants started though.”

            Rolling his eyes, Will rubbed the soreness from his arm almost absently. “What did you want to talk about?”

            Magnus gestured toward the column. “That. I assumed you had heard that someone plans to open it before long.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, as if hinting at something Will should have already puzzled out.

            And of course he had. “Mortmain,” Will growled. “But he could never open Purgatory. It is protected by all manner of curses, spells, and enchantments.” His mind was racing to find the reason behind such a seemingly pointless course of action. “Why would he do it? There would be no sense in it. That clockwork army of his I understand, but unleashing untold hoards of demons? That is simply reckless.”

            “Exactly,” Magnus exclaimed. “So why would he make the move, William? How would going after Purgatory profit him?” He was balanced on the balls of his feet in anticipation. “Come on, Will. Why would he venture to achieve something so impossible?”

            Will’s blue eyes grew darker as thoughts swirled through his mind until his whole being fell completely still. “He intends to use it as a distraction.” _But a distraction from what? What could he be planning that would make the release of Hell look like child’s play?_

            “That,” answered Magnus with a half-smile. “Is what I wish to talk about.”

 

…   &   …

 

            It was well after midnight when Will finally dragged himself into the Institute and it seemed as though his mind, body and soul ached in unison. To his relief, the walkways were empty and the bedrooms were silent. He was particularly thankful for that last as he passed Jem’s room, though it was always surprisingly quiet for one who was engaged. Will caught himself before his thoughts strayed too far in the imaginings of what he would be doing every night if he were engaged to Tessa. Another sharp pain ripped through him as though someone had raked their nails across his soul, scratching a name on its every surface.

            _Tessa. Tessa. Tessa._

            “Will?”

            He spun, pinning his assailant to the wall and pressing his forearm against their throat. The scent of soap and lavender reached his nose and Will dropped his arm, stepping back quickly. “Tessa. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” _My talents of observation are certainly lacking tonight._ “Did I hurt you?”

            Tessa pushed herself away from the wall and shook her head, though she was also rubbing her neck gently. “I’m fine. I should have realized that sneaking up on you was not the best of ideas.” Her eyes flashed up to meet his and she found herself trapped in his gaze, her skin tingling at their close proximity in the darkness.

            “Probably not,” Will muttered and glanced away, feeling the electricity that scorched his skin whenever she was near. He felt her anxiety in the stillness and longed for nothing more than to escape it but found himself lingering instead of fleeing the way he should. “Are you...do you feel alright?”

            Tessa nodded, gazing absently at his boots, which were covered in mud and trash from the street. “It seems sleep has escaped us both.” She smiled weakly. “Where have you been?”

            “The gates of Hell.” Will smirked at the irony behind the words she would not understand. “They are one of my more frequent haunts.” He risked a glance at her face and felt the blood rush to his. She was still beautiful. Still breathtaking.

            She smiled softly, more out of remorse than amusement. The closeness she had once felt with Will was all but gone and had been replaced by a more polite, distant version and the loss of him was almost more than Tessa could bear. “Will—”

            His jaw tightened and he angled his face away from her, shuddering as he closed his eyes against the pain of hearing his name through her lips again. Tessa’s brow crumpled at the sight and she reached out to him, wishing that she could somehow undo the hurt when he maneuvered himself out of reach.

            “Don’t,” he whispered.

            The wave that always drew them together had been ebbing over the last month, but it was still there under everything else. She still felt it and allowed it to pull her toward him now. Before he could dance out of her way again, the tips of Tessa’s bare fingers brushed his arm and froze him where he stood. “I only wish to speak with you, Will.” She jerked her head toward the library door further down the hallway. “Would you mind?”

            Will swallowed hard, ignoring the pleading in her eyes. “I can’t.” His eyes pricked when he lifted them to meet hers and Will shook his head. “I can’t do this, Tess.”

            A quiet sob caught in her throat when he said her name and Tessa dropped her hand from where it had been resting; the only physical contact they had had in weeks. Nothing felt more real than when she was around Will, not even Jem could fill the void.

            “Tess…”

            She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “This is how it is going to be, isn’t it,” she said, stated it like a death sentence. “The two of us always looking away from one another, only trading conversation in polite company, and all the while wishing we did not have to pretend.” Before Tessa could stop herself, she threw herself against his chest and pressed her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I don’t want this, Will. I don’t want this for us.”

            Will pulled her away from him gently, but did not shrug away the arms that encircled him. For the last month, these were the words he had often imagined Tessa saying, though his version usually included her asking him to take her away from here. The gray eyes he loved were riddled with pain and the sight of it tightened his chest. _Say the words_ , he thought desperately. _Say the words and I will take you away right now._ A vision of Jem’s face flashed across his memory and he knew he could never mean that.

“It wouldn’t have to be that way,” Will said softly, rewarded and punished by the flare of hope in Tessa’s eyes. He took a deep breath and pushed her gently away, extricating himself. “I could go away. I could leave.” The words felt as though they had clawed their way from his throat, leaving it raw and bloodied. The horror in Tessa’s eyes made him feel worse; it was obvious that this option had never occurred to her.

“No,” she gasped, knotting her hands into his shirt. “No, Will. Please.” Tessa could already see the resolve forming in Will’s eyes and saw the darkness of her future stretch out before her. Unable to imagine her life without Will, she searched desperately for something, anything that would make him stay. No matter how selfish it might make her. “Jem needs you. You’re _parabatai_. You cannot be without each other. You cannot leave him.”

“Jem will be fine,” Will argued, his face twisting with a grimace. “He has you.”

Sudden, hot tears burst into her eyes and Tessa could not bring herself to care about fighting them back any longer. Nothing undid her control like Will did. “Please don’t go,” she gasped, the tears spilling over. “Please don’t leave me, Will.”

Pain flashed across his face and Will pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms and stroking her hair as easily as if he had done it a thousand times before; as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of her seemed to seep into his very bones and he could feel them melting into each other, but the reality of it was too much.

“You are not mine to leave,” he whispered hoarsely, untangling himself.

Tessa fell back a step and felt the chill growing between them again and knew, without knowing how she knew, that if she did not do something quickly this would be the last time they would ever speak. This would be her last opportunity to tell Will the truth of her heart. The little voice in her head telling her that he was the one she loved most kept pounding against the walls she had viciously erected to silence it. The one that whispered what she already knew shouted now. _Tell him!_ A swell of hope welled in her chest and she looked up to say the words, but he was gone.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

2

QUIET VICTORIES

 

  

_Yet some there be that by due steps aspire_

_To lay their just hands on that golden key_

_That opes the palace of Eternity._

—Milton’s _Comus_

  

 

           “Ouch! Blast it all to Hell! Will!”

            Charlotte looked up in surprise as the dining room doors flew open and Cecily stormed through the frame, holding her hand and spewing expletives like a sailor. “Where’s Will,” she demanded, her eyes darting to the faces of those seated at the table—first, Charlotte, Henry, Gideon and finally Jem. “Where is he?”

            “Cecily, calm yourself,” Charlotte snapped, rising from her seat and crossing the room. “Now what happened?” She took the young girl’s hand in hers and examined the large gash across the palm, quickly etching an _iratze_ over it.

            “What happened,” Cecily snarled, “is that I need to find Will so that I can _kill_ him.”

            A soft chuckle sounded from the table and they both turned to look at Jem.

            “Is something funny,” Cecily asked icily, pulling her hand from Charlotte’s hold. “Do you know what he did to me, Jem?”

            “It sounds as if you were trying to get inside somewhere you were not invited,” he answered placidly, rising from the table in a single fluid motion. “What is our dear William hiding now?”

            Cecily frowned at the stern look Charlotte shot her way and turned her attention back to Jem. Raising her chin stubbornly, Cecily held his silvery gaze and folded her arms across her chest as she replied, “I was not trying to steal anything—”

            “I was not accusing you of theft,” Jem said, noticing the muscles in her shoulders relax, releasing tension in her neck. The gentle curve of her collarbone drew his eye and he found himself wondering what it would be like to—he visibly jumped with surprise at the line of thought. Jem felt the warmth of blood flood to his face and moved away from Cecily sharply, clearing his throat. “I was asking simply because Will has a tendency to conceal those things worst for him.” His eyes flashed to meet the nearly identical eyes of his _parabatai_ mirrored in his sister’s face and felt the heat of embarrassment warm his face again.

_Tessa._ In that one word of thought, he chastised himself. Whatever this new feeling he held, Tessa was the one he loved. The girl he had given his heart to. He should not be entertaining thoughts about anyone else, let alone his _parabatai’s_ younger sister. Guilt raced through him like the _yin fen_ and Jem loosened his collar to lessen its stifling heat, only then did he realize that Charlotte was speaking to him. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. What did you say?”

            Concerned flared in her eyes and she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling well? Perhaps you should lie down for a while.” It was that motherly affection that Jem found the most endearing about Charlotte and he found himself nodding before realizing he was. Charlotte was still speaking, but he could not quite make out the words until a second voice broke in.

            “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

            His silver eyes slid to the left to see Cecily move to his side and take his arm. The pressure was nice, he admitted to himself. As she escorted him from the room, Jem found himself making comparisons between the two girls almost absently and telling himself that it did not make him terrible. Where Tessa’s touch caused his skin to burn, Cecily maintained a steady, comforting warmth that did not scorch or sizzle but tingled and stung in the most wonderful way.

            “Are you alright, Jem?”

            He closed his eyes to her voice and realized that it was musical, perhaps the most melodious voice he had heard in a long while, rising and falling in perfect intervals. Jem sighed at the beauty of it, his eyes finding hers without effort and cleared his throat. “Yes. I will be.” He tried to flash a confident smile, Lord knows he has had enough practice doing the same for everyone else, but it seemed terribly wrong to pretend this with Cecily and his grin came off a bit like a grimace before he could stop it.

            She noticed.

            Pulling him to a stop, Cecily placed her hand in his and gazed into his face with the kindest expression on hers. “You know you can talk to me, Jem. I would not tell Will.” Her face fell just the tiniest bit, but Cecily held his eyes. “Nor Tessa, if that is your worry.”

            Jem took a deep breath. “I am not worried,” he replied, his voice held a slight quaver. “I’m fine, Miss Herondale.”

            “Cecily. I have asked you to call me Cecily.” She shook her head with slight annoyance. “I thought we were past the formality. Would you prefer I call you Mr. Carstairs from now on?”

            He shook his head. “No. You are right, Cecily.” As soon as her name passed his lips, Jem knew it was a mistake to have said it. He loved the sound of it, the seductive feel it seemed to possess as it rolled across his tongue. Shaking his head quickly to clear away the thoughts that followed, Jem took a step down the hall and away from Cecily, but of course she followed. She _was_ William’s sister after all.

            They remained silent until they reached Jem’s bedroom door.

            “Safe and sound,” Cecily announced, smiling crookedly. “Do you have it from here?”

            Jem could not help but laugh and found that she drew it from him effortlessly. More disturbing than that was the fact that he enjoyed her company and her humor. He caught the words before he could invite her inside and was horrified at himself for entertaining the thought even briefly. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to play his violin for her and to see her watching as he did. Jem said a hurried goodbye to Cecily and ducked inside the room before slamming shut the door.

            _When did I become such the coward_ , Jem thought to himself, pressing his back against the wood. A vision of Cecily gazing at him, losing himself in the depth of her ocean blue eyes, flashed against his eyelids as an answer to his question. Suddenly determined, he pulled open the door once more and leaned his head out into the hallway to see Cecily’s figure retreating down the hall. _Perhaps I need only to get it out of my system_ , he thought, calling out to her. _It may be her company I enjoy and nothing more._

            “Feeling better, are you?” she called back with a smile.

            The anticipation of what he was about to do clouded all rational thought as he all but ran to meet her. “I am actually. Would you like to go for a walk?”

            Cecily’s smile slipped a little and she glanced around quickly. “Jem, do you really think that would be appropriate?” As much as she hated herself for caring for propriety, he _was_ engaged to Tessa after all. “I mean, do you think that Tessa would mind?”

            “If we were walking with dishonorable intentions, I believe that she would, but as we do not intend anything nefarious, I am certain she will not.” Jem offered her his arm, smiling widely all the while. “Shall we?”

            Cecily frowned slightly, but accepted his arm. “I suppose a short walk would be alright.”

 

…&…

 

            Will sat at his desk, balls of parchments strewn across its surface and ink staining his hands, but he was staring at a small mark on the wall—a dent where the hilt of his father’s knife had struck after Will had thrown it when they had come for him and he refused to go outside. After all of this mess with Tessa, he had found himself wishing more and more that he had gone down to meet them back then. None of this would have happened. He would not hurt as he did now. He would not have met Tessa at all.

            But these regrets only spun more thoughts.

            He never would have become a Shadowhunter. He never would have met Jem. In fact, Jem would probably have been dead by now. Those thoughts brought on pain as well and this pain had levels to it, but none of those bore thinking about for too long.

            “Master Will?”

            Will looked up from the paper lying on the desk with Tessa’s name written across every inch. _I don’t remember writing that_ , he thought to himself and turned toward the voice. “Good morning, Sophie. How are you?”

            The young servant girl looked taken aback by the question and the tone of sincerity behind it, but recovered quickly and ignored it. “Gideon—I mean, Mr. Lightwood, would like to speak with you for a moment.”

            Rising from the chair, Will leaned over to pick his jacket up off of the floor and threaded his arms through the sleeves. It was wrinkled and there seemed to be some sort of stain above the pocket, but he did not seem to care so Sophie tried her best to ignore it as well. After all, it was not as if she and Will were friends at all.

            “Where is he?” Will asked quietly.

            Her frown deepened as she stepped out into the hallway. “Follow me.” Sophie and Will walked in silence, which only worried her more. Will was not making any snide comments or being unkind in any way at all and this lack of interest bothered Sophie more than she liked to admit. She was relieved when they finally reached the door to Gideon’s quarters, knocking quickly, and was surprised by the fact that Will was not shouldering past her, but waiting patiently behind her.

            A voice sounded from the other side and she opened the door, sticing her head inside. “Master Will is here.”

            Gideon smiled at her warmly while she stepped to one side, returning his smile briefly as Will entered the room.

            “You wanted to speak with me, Gideon?”

            Sophie made a move as though to stay in the room with the two, but one apologetic shake of the head from Gideon and she tiptoed out. Even after she was gone, the eldest Lightwood stared after her as though he could still see her through the wood. It was obvious that he was in love with her and it made Will want to throttle them both at once.

            “So what is it?” he asked irritably when the other said nothing.

            Turning his attention to Will, Gideon cleared his throat and removed a book from the shelf beside him. “Last night you asked me what I knew of Hell and I have an answer for you.” He tossed the book across the space between them and Will caught it lightly.

            “It was more of a figurative question than a literal one,” he muttered. _A Shadowhunter codex?_

            Striding across the room, Gideon pulled open the door and jerked his head for Will to follow. “Not anymore. Charlotte seems to think that you might have stumbled—”

            “Stumbled?” Will asked, his tone bordering on incredulous.

            The other boy waved his hand dismissively. “Very well, she believes you have sleuthed out some very important information about Mortmain’s intentions.”

            Will shook his head, tossing the codex onto the desk. “Mortmain cannot open the gates of Hell. It is impossible. His attempts could only be used as a distraction at best. What we need is to focus on what he wants to distract us from and how best to stop him.”

            “Our thoughts precisely.” Gideon pushed open the library doors and Will tramped in after him to see Charlotte and Henry already seated at the table in the center. Across from them sat Tessa, but Jem and Cecily were nowhere to be seen.

            “Will James and Miss Herondale be joining us?” asked Gideon, evidently confused at their absence. “I was under the impression that everyone would be present.”

            Will crossed the room reluctantly and slid into the empty chair furthest from Tessa while Gideon hovered behind the seat between them, his hands on the back. Waiting for Charlotte’s response seemed to last an interminable space of time and Will could feel his patience slipping just before she finally spoke.

            “Jem was feeling a bit ill this morning so I asked Cecily to deliver him to his room.”

            Without meaning to, Will glanced toward Tessa only to see confusion color her features and she shook her head. “No. I was just there and Jem is not in his room.”

            Concern etched its way onto each face and for a split second, Tessa met Will’s gaze and held it. It was in that moment that he knew the same thought, a hideous thought, had occurred to her and he rose from his seat without a word.

            “I’ll go look for them,” he announced. “Charlotte, Gideon knows everything that I do about this bloody distraction plan. I should be back within a couple of hours.” Charlotte kneaded her fingertips into her temples, but nodded despite it and Will turned to leave when he heard the legs of a chair scrape across the flooring.

            “I will come with you, Will.”

            Will sighed, but straightened his back before turning around with a rakish grin. “No need. I am perfectly capable of finding and retrieving my sister and Jem on my own. Years of Shadowhunter training and all that.”

            “Nevertheless,” Tessa replied, ignoring his dismissal and leading him out. “I will be going with you.” Her stomach had been in knots all afternoon for a reason she did not understand and they only worsened when Charlotte informed that Will’s sister was missing as well. Jem was not in the best physical condition to protect anyone on his own for the moment. _He could be lying bloody and broken in a ditch somewhere or drowned in the Thames or—no._ _No. Surely Will would be able to tell if something had happened to Jem._ Wouldn’t he? Her eyes followed Will as he strode ahead of her down the hallway to the front doors of the Institute.

            Will paused, his hand reaching for Tessa’s cloak and removing it from the peg upon which it hung. He very nearly threw it at her. “Here.”

            Catching it, she sighed and quickly tucked it around herself. “Will?” He grunted to signify that he was listening. “You would know, wouldn’t you? If something were to happen to Jem?”

            Pulling open the doors, Will stepped out into the putrid air of London and was quiet for so long as they walked down the street that Tessa was almost sure that he was not going to answer. “You mean, if he was hurt?”

            She nodded.

            Will looked heavenward briefly before nodding. “Yes. I would feel it.” There was a tortured look in his eyes when he answered and Tessa could not help wondering if he was thinking about what that would feel like. A horrifying thought was forming, but before she could give it voice, Will nodded as though he had heard the thought himself. “Yes. I would feel that too.”

            _Jem’s death._

            The world tilted slightly and Tessa reached out to steady herself, latching onto Will’s arm. She had never thought of that.

“Tessa?”

She had, in her darkest nightmares, remembered how it felt when her aunt had died and was prepared for that reaction if Jem were to die, but she had never thought about how it would affect Will. _Would he actually_ feel _it? Would it feel as if he were dying as well? Could Will feel the drugs killing Jem now?_ Her vision swam and she felt lightheaded as the questions leapt to her thoughts.

“Tess. Are you alright?”

Will was holding her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly and staring her in the face. She nodded abruptly. “Yes. Sorry, yes, I’m fine.” Her legs seemed like they would crumble beneath her and her stomach felt as though it had dropped into her feet, but what did that matter?

Somewhat mollified, Will let his arms fall to his sides, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets to avoid touching her again and began walking down the street once more as she fell into step beside him. A corner of his mouth twitched upward and he imagined being able to hear the question in her mind as he interrupted her. “Yes, I do know where we’re going.” Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes widening in mild surprise at his accurate response to her unspoken question.

He chuckled under his breath, disguising it by clearing his throat when she glared.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where we’re going,” Tessa mumbled, latching onto his arm in an effort to slow his pace. Her shoes were wreaking havoc on her feet as they clacked against these cobblestones. Thankfully, he seemed to understand and matched her steps before gently pulling free of her grasp. She felt a pang of sadness in her chest.

Will shrugged in that way he had, almost careless yet smooth in his movements. “We may very well track over all of London; Trinity Square Gardens, Trafalgar Square, Tower of London, and the Crystal Palace.” He gestured toward the east and continued, “We might even venture so far as Belgrave. I could cover more ground on my own, but you _had_ to insist on coming along.” His gaze cut toward her briefly, hoping she caught the teasing edge in his voice and smirked to soften it if she hadn’t.

Tessa rolled her eyes, returning his grin. “I couldn’t let you wander off all on your own, Will. Not with all of these ducks around.” She gestured at the sky and the V of birds flying overhead. “You would never have come home alive,” she added with a laugh.

_If only you knew_ , Will thought while constructing his expression into one of playful outrage at her mocking words, remembering the story he and Jem had told her in the library. The one about the cannibal ducks in Hyde Park. “I will have you know that I have yet to meet a duck that can best me since the age of five.”

She laughed at that and slipped her arm in the crook of his, relieved to feel a familiar pattern to their bantering. _It’s almost as it was before Jem—_ Tessa shook the thought away and tightened her grip on Will. “So you admit it,” she teased, wanting to hold onto his playfulness as long as she could. “You really have a prejudice against ducks.” He nodded and she waited to see if he was kidding, but he remained silent and she was almost certain her jaw had hit the walk. “Since you were five years old?”

The disbelief on her face had to be the most amusing thing Will had ever seen and the laughter that exploded out of him was the proof. “There is a story behind it,” he told her after a moment. Will could see the curiosity burning in Tessa’s eyes, though she made no move to voice her questions, seeming to realize the tale was one of a serious nature.

So he told her as they continued their search.

 

…&…

 

            “I would never have thought there was such a place as that in such a place as this,” Cecily exclaimed, squeezing Jem’s arm excitedly as they rounded the enormous fountain and approached the vast cast iron and glass building. “Are we really still in London? It seems impossible.”

            Enjoying her enthusiasm, Jem tightened his hold on her hand and smiled widely in response. “Yes, Sydenham Hill is still a part of London. They call this the Crystal Palace. It was first built in Hyde Park for the Great Exhibition, it was considered large even then, but when they moved and expanded it here nearly a decade ago…”

            “It is enormous!” Cecily exclaimed, running her gaze over the exterior of the Palace. It was the largest and most grand structure she had ever laid her eyes upon. “You could fit the Institute and the buildings around it inside!”

            Jem laughed heartily. “Thrice over, I imagine. I am told that the Palace is nearly one million square feet.” He watched as, if it were possible, Cecily’s eyes widened to saucers filled with wonder and disbelieving awe. “Come. Let’s go inside.” He tugged her forward gently and they passed through the doors into a vast, open area filled with museum pieces and artifacts, vendors and exhibitionists. _If she is this excited now, I cannot wait to show her the dinosaur fossils and reconstructions_ , Jem thought cheerfully in anticipation as he continued their tour.

            Cecily tore her gaze away from a large display of impressive medieval weapons to glance back at Jem’s face. His silver eyes were bright and reflective, practically shimmering with their own inner light. She sighed and quickly checked her behavior when his gaze slid to her face and his voice trailed off for a moment. Jem was saying something about the use of a mace or the brushstrokes of a masterpiece, but Cecily could not make sense of the words and continued to stare at the movement of his lips as they formed them. _What would they feel like to kiss?_ He looked at her then and she felt her face flush and quickly made her way over to another display.

            Jem felt his heart pumping fast, beating against his chest almost painfully when his gaze locked on hers and there was something in it that beckoned him forward, but she had turned away from him so quickly that he had no chance to decipher it. _It almost looked like—_ he shook his head. It had almost looked like what? Like she had wanted him to kiss her? Jem scoffed at his own impertinence and offered his arm as they made their way through the crowd to the final hall of exhibits.

            His eyes were drawn to Cecily constantly and each time he glanced at her and caught her in the act of looking at him, he flashed a smile and she returned it before looking away hastily. It was undeniably frustrating. Finally entering the last room, Jem kept his eyes trained on her face so as not to miss the wonder that would fill her expression when her eyes first lit upon the massive brontosaurus reconstruction in the center. It was a wondrous thing to behold, he knew, but watching Cecily’s first reaction was a wonder that would not cease to hold his attention.

            She did not disappoint.

            “Oh. My. Goodness,” she breathed. Cecily made to head toward the display and Jem followed behind her, feeling as though he were grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He laughed at the reference to the latest book Will had read and had felt the need to share with him. The thought of Will brought his attentions back to Cecily, who looked very similar to her brother, but more feminine. He said a silent prayer to the heavens for that.

            They took their time through the exhibit, stopping when Cecily found something more fascinating than the last. Jem could not remember the last time he had had this much fun with someone, unless he were to count the visit to Poet’s Corner with Tessa but even then poetry had never meant as much to him as science. _That_ was the biggest difference between the two women, he realized with a shock. Tessa’s head always seemed to be in the clouds, but Cecily’s excitement was firmly rooted here on the ground with his.

            With new eyes, Jem tried to remember the reasons he had for asking Tessa to marry him and could not think of more than the fact that she had needed a home. He cared for her, of course, but would he have proposed to her if he had met Cecily?

            “This is amazing, Jem,” Cecily gushed, reaching back to take his hand and squeezing it. “I could have never imagined any of this! Thank you so much for bringing me!”

            He returned the tight squeeze and watched as Cecily danced forward to hear the speech that was being delivered in front of one of the other displays, feeling his chest tighten in response. Suddenly, he knew the answer to his question. The whole of his being filled with a kind of warmth that he had never felt before as Cecily returned to his side and he stared into her excited blue eyes for a long moment.

            Seeing the change in his expression, Cecily laid a hand on his forearm. “Jem? Are you all right? Shall we sit or—” Without warning, she felt him grip her elbows and pull her against him as he crushed his lips against hers with feverish intensity.

            And then the world exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

3

HOMO HOMINI MONSTRUM

 

 

_"When I looked around I saw and heard of none like me._

_Was I, a monster, a blot upon the earth from_

_which all men fled and whom all men disowned?”_

—Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_

 

 

Will felt Tessa’s sharp intake of breath like the thrust of a spear in his side and he could not make his mind believe what his eyes were seeing. Jem. Cecily. Kissing. He knew the words meant something, that their actions said something, but he could not seem to make sense of the translation. For a long moment, he stood uncomprehendingly because it seemed beyond his capacity of thought to cast Jem in such a low role. When he looked to Tessa for some help understanding, he caught sight of her expression and it was as if a switch had been thrown in his mind as he stalked forward angrily, yanking his sister backward and pushing her behind him.

Jem stared at him in shock. “Will, I—”

“Stop talking,” Will growled, glaring at his _parabatai_ , his brother. Fury roiled inside him; fury that Jem dared to touch his sister that way. Fury that he did not know his _parabatai_ as well as he thought he had, but most consuming was the fury that he had given up Tessa in favor of Jem and that he had the audacity to treat her as some tawdry, society wife while he behaved like some kind of gentleman whore.

Will watched as the color drained from Jem’s face, though he did not panic as he might have if it were drug-induced, and knew that he had just seen Tessa standing behind them. He could imagine the look of betrayal and anger that must have been featured there and glanced over his shoulder to see her gray eyes beginning to pool.

“Tessa—”

“Don’t.” Will’s command was soft, but infinitely more threatening than if he had shouted the word. _I will not let you hurt her again_. “Don’t you dare speak to her.”

“Stop it, Will.” He spun to see Tessa glaring at him, truly glaring with a staggeringly steely glint in her normally soft, gray eyes. She turned the glare on Jem, where it belonged, but continued to speak to Will. “Take her out of here. Now.”

At first, Will wasn’t sure who she was talking about but he could feel Cecily’s embarrassment like a hot burner against his back and the anger blowing off of Tessa was scalding. It would be better for all of them if he listened to her now. “Come along, Cecily.” He gripped her arm a little rougher than he meant and pulled her to the doorway, pushing her out of Tessa’s line of sight while still maintaining his view of her and Jem.

“Will…”

“Be quiet, Cecily.” He strained his ears in an effort to discern the exchange of words inside the room, which was not an easy task as there were several mundanes still inside. _Thank the Angel for glamours_ , he thought. These mundanes would surely have gotten an earful if they could see and hear the two quarreling. A part of him rejoiced in this confrontation, but he forced that feeling down past the concern for his friend, sister, and Tessa as well as his own anger.

“But Will, I think that—”

“Cecy, please,” he snapped. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one night?”

Cecily blew out her breath and smacked him in the arm. Hard. “I haven’t done anything wrong, William. Jem kissed me! And I’ll thank you for your concern,” she grumbled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Will rolled his eyes. “You weren’t exactly fighting him off, were you?” He shook his head in disapproval. “Really, Cecily, what was going through your head?”

Indignant, she shoved against his chest with both hands and caused him to stumble back a step. “I did not kiss him first!” Turning on her heel, Cecily took two steps away before whirling around to face him and folding her arms across her chest as though preparing to present a proposition to him. Her expression was thoughtful and that, alone, gave Will cause to be wary. His brow furrowed in preparation for whatever she was planning to say.

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Will,” she stated calmly, though her eyes begged for him to listen. “I really think Jem could have feelings for me.”

Will let his head drop back and raised his hands before running one down his face as he glared at his sister. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Are you listening to _me_?” she retorted, glaring right back. “If Jem does have feelings for me, he will leave Tessa—”

“I think Tessa might do the leaving.” Will flicked his eyes back to where Tessa and Jem were arguing.

“Whichever,” Cecily snapped peevishly. “Don’t you see? If Jem is with me, then you are free to be with Tessa.” Will felt a flash of hope zip through his veins, but he shoved it down where he hoped his sister would not be able to see it. In the end, his efforts meant nothing as he watched Cecily’s expression soften and she whispered, “You could be together.”

Will allowed his mind to wander, to imagine what it would be like living without having to deny his feelings for Tessa. He could not say the thought did not hold any appeal for him. It was what he dreamed of constantly. His eyes drifted back to two of the most important people in his life and the fight that would decide his future.

 

…&…

 

            “How could you do this, Jem?” Questions spiraled through Tessa’s head as she stared at her fiancé, if that was what he was anymore, heatedly. “Explain it to me because I cannot make sense of it!”

            Jem held up his hands as though she were throwing punches he was trying to ward off. “If you would only listen to me, I would attempt to explain.”

            She folded her arms abruptly, her eyes daring him to come up with an explanation that would somehow make sense of his unacceptable behavior. Jem did not blame her for her anger, she had every right to it but he did not condone his actions either and she needed to know that. She needed to hear the reasons, however tenuous they might be, that fueled his change of heart.

            “Perhaps we could sit down,” he began. Seeing the anger in the line of her body, Jem straightened to his full height to combat her anger with his own determination. “Or we can remain standing, whichever you prefer.”

            Tessa clenched her jaw and continued to glare. “I’m fine where I am,” she hissed through her teeth.

            He nodded and tried to think of a way to begin when Tessa held her hand out to stop him.

            “There’s one thing I need to know first.” Her eyes burned into him as she waited for his assent. “Did you love me when you asked me to marry you? Did you care for me at all?”

            Jem should have expected this to be a question that came up, but still, he was thrown by it. The fact was that he _had_ loved her, with all his heart, mind, and soul when he proposed marriage to her. He could not imagine a day passing where he would not have her by his side. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I did.”

            Tessa took a deep breath through her nose and dropped her hands. “Did.” She shook her head and turned away from him. “And what did I do, pray tell, in the last month to make you stop loving me?”

            He shook his head. “It isn’t like that, Tessa. I still love you—”

            “You still love me?” Her tone was incredulous. She could not believe he had the nerve to actually say the words. _As though he is worthy of using the word to begin with!_ Did he even know what it meant?

            “Yes,” he argued heatedly, gripping her upper arms and turning her to face him. “I realize now that proposing to you was selfish of me. It was the most selfish thing I have ever done and I did it for all the wrong reasons.” She frowned but he continued, half-ashamed of the next words that would come out of his mouth. “When I proposed to you, I did it out of fear. I was afraid of my own mortality and wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by someone like you. You do not realize how unique and rare you truly are, Tessa.”

            Her eyes shone with unshed tears and she squeezed his fingers gently, her lips parting slightly as though she meant to say something, but was interrupted.

            “She may not realize her worth,” said a voice in the shadows. “But I do.” A large, imposing figure stepped out from amid a group of mundanes mere feet from them and approached with a familiar and arrogant air of confidence.

            Tessa stumbled back even as Jem put himself between them. “Mortmain.” He spat the name like a curse and Will appeared beside them in a flash, adjusting Tessa’s position more directly behind him and hiding her from view.

            “You made a mistake coming here tonight, Mortmain,” Will growled, pulling a seraph blade from his belt even as Jem mirrored his movements.

            The older man chuckled, fingering the silver ring on his hand and smirked, glancing at Will’s face as though he found the threat of violence there amusing. “You say that as though it will make a difference in the outcome of this situation, Mister Herondale.” He even chuckled, his gaze locking on Will’s as he flicked a hand out to his side.

            The room exploded into bedlam. The walls and ceiling shattered, raining glass down over all their heads and mundanes began to scream, fleeing through the doors and open walls as several clockwork creatures ran into the room. Stepping back, Will nudged Tessa backward as Jem followed, both young men keeping sharp eyes on the enemies that were quickly surrounding them.

            Tessa’s intake of breath drew Will’s attention but he could not afford to glance over his shoulder and instead, stretched his hand back for hers. When he felt her fingers grip his, he squeezed them gently and let go. “Everything will be all right, Tess.”

            “Will…”

            Mortmain seemed to hiss with anticipation at the sound of her voice as Will and Jem adjusted their postures in response. “Miss Gray—”

            “Don’t you speak to her,” Jem growled, echoing Will’s words from their earlier confrontation. “Don’t you dare say two words to her.” Shifting the seraph blade into a more manageable position, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other and spoke, though not to Mortmain. “Get her out of here, Will.”

            “I’m not going anywhere,” Will answered, adjusting his grip on the blade he held while stretching back to pull Tessa closer. He was not satisfied until he felt her hands fist into the material of his jacket and the front of her skirts brushing the back of his legs. “Stay close, Tess.”

            Dark laughter bubbled up from Mortmain’s chest and he clapped his hands, adding a mocking bow toward the boys as his clockwork creatures narrowed the circle. “Bravo, boys, bravo. So determined to be the heroes, but I wonder…do you even know what it is you’re protecting?” He grinned savagely at the pair of gray eyes peeking around Will’s side. “She isn’t even human. She’s a monster. My own little Frankenstein.” He barked a laugh and brought his creatures even closer. “And you want to protect her? My little demon?”

            Tessa gasped. She had known as much about the thing that had fathered her, Eidolon, the Silent Brother had called her, but she had never been called a _demon_ before. The sound of it said aloud churned her stomach and made her cringe into Will, burying her face between his shoulder blades. She could feel the hard muscles of his back tense in anger hearing what Mortmain stated so openly.

A detail he did not fail to miss.

            A sneer curled his lips as Mortmain glared at them, finally losing whatever patience he had been exercising toward them. “Give her to me now,” he growled. “And I will let you live.”

            Jem inched nearer to them both, leaning slightly toward Will and whispered, “Take Tessa and run.” His long fingers curled tightly around the seraph blade in his hand. Will shook his head, not in denial but out of frustration and Tessa lifted her head to meet Jem’s eyes. There was a spark in them that she had never seen before, a determined and hard look to the contours of his face and a violent tension in the lines of his body. He looked away from her and locked his gaze on Will. “Take her now.”

            Tessa found herself being pushed aside, she heard a loud and high-pitched pealing noise and before she knew how it happened, she and Will were running toward the open doorway. “Jem! JEM!” She shouted his name over and over again, but Will continued running with her in tow. Digging her heels into the floor as hard as she could, Tessa screamed, “We can’t leave him, Will! We have to go back!”

            Will grasped her by her wrists and pulled her toward him, capturing her gaze with his. “I am not going to leave him.” Spinning her around, he shoved her into a pair of waiting arms and sped off toward the back of the Palace and Jem, shouting over his shoulder. “Take care of her, Henry.”

            He disappeared around the corner.

 

…&…

 

            “NO! Henry, let me go!” Tessa struggled against him, trying to break free as he dragged her outside the Palace and toward the carriage. _Will is back there!_ Jem too. She could _not_ leave them behind! With renewed vigor, she elbowed and pushed against Henry, managing to catch him in the gut once before he tightened his hold on her.

            “I am sorry, Tessa, but I need you to stay here,” he told her as sharply as she had ever him speak to anyone. “We will take care of Mortmain, but I need you to get as far away from him as possible. You need to be safe.” He opened the carriage door and nearly shoved her inside before slamming the door shut and giving the cabbie instructions.

            The carriage took off at a nearly breakneck speed, the wheels clattering against the cobblestone drive as the horses thundered on through the streets of London.

            “All right?”

            Tessa jumped, startled by the sound of someone else in the cab. Two bright, blue eyes peered out at her through the darkness a slim figure slid forward to help Tessa up from the floor and to the bench. “Cecily? What are you doing here?”

            Will’s sister pouted, her lower lip pushing out slightly. “Charlotte said I would be a liability as I have not been properly trained as a Shadowhunter.” Tessa nod her head once and a heavy silence fell over them. Cecily shifted uncomfortably in her seat while Tessa twisted her hands together in her lap and both avoided looking at the other as the silence stretched on.

            The rocking of the carriage continued to jostle them in their seats roughly. Tessa shot a glare over her shoulder where she thought Cyril would be seated as he drove and wondered when he would slow their pace. Surely, the horses could not handle much more of this.

            “Well this is just ridiculous,” Cecily erupted, throwing her hands into the air and letting them smack the seat as the fell. Tessa looked at her in surprise, but the girl continued, “Yes, Jem kissed me. No, I did not try to stop him.”

            “Cecily—”

            “Did I enjoy it?” she thundered on. “Yes, I enjoyed it quite a bit. I wish it hadn’t happened the way it did, but do I regret it? No, I do not.” She puffed her breath out through her lips as though she were surprised that she had spoken so brashly. Tessa stared at her wide-eyed for a long moment, but before she could respond, Cecily ducked her head slightly and soldiered on. “I am sorry that I hurt you. It was not my intention. As frustrated as I am over my brother’s unhappiness, I do not fault you for it.” She took a deep breath. “Jem is a wonderful man and I know that he would not love you unless you were as well.”

Tessa chuckled and Cecily jerked her gaze upward at the sound. “I’m sorry, Cecily, but you made it sound as though he loved me because I am a wonderful man.” The relief was nearly palpable in the silence of the cab and Tessa found it easier to breathe now that Cecily’s confession was plainly laid before them. It almost seemed a shame to break it. “You know,” Tessa began, “I thought I would be more upset about this situation, but instead I feel as though a weight has been taken from me.” A corner of her mouth lifted into a wistful smile as she met Cecily’s eye. “I think that I knew, deep down, that Jem and I could never be.”

Cecily’s gaze dropped to her hands resting in her lap, her fingers twisting. “Because he is going to…die?” Her voice strangled on the last word as her eyes closed.

The breath caught in Tessa’s throat and she slid from her seat to the one beside Cecily, her arms instinctively sliding around the younger girl. “Oh no, Cecily. No. That isn’t it at all.” She leaned back to force Will’s sister to meet her eyes. “And I’m not sure Jem is going to leave us anytime soon so you needn’t worry about that.”

“Then why would you say that you and he could never be?” Cecily brushed at her eyes impatiently, gently swatting Tessa’s arms away from her. “He’s perfect.” The carriage lurched on the road once more, nearly throwing the girls against the wall, but quickly righted itself.

A strange warmth filled Tessa’s chest, flooding outward and racing through her veins until the whole of her was buzzing with it. “Because,” she said with something akin to awe in her voice, “I am in love with Will.” The warmth inside her became an all out blaze of consuming fire at the truth in the words and her eyes flew to the window and the rising smoke that billowed into the sky from the Palace. A rise of panic raced through her. _I never told him! What if something happens to him? What if—_ she shook her head, stopping the thought before it could completely form. _Will is going to be fine. They are all going to be fine._

Cecily shook her arm gently, bringing Tessa out of her panic for a moment. She had noticed the smoke as well and seemed to want to distract them both from it. “It will be all right.” Tessa nodded and met the set of blue eyes that so closely resembled Will’s and caught her lower lip between her teeth to stifle a sob.

“What if he doesn’t love me anymore?” The thought had only now occurred to her and she felt a bit of ice settle over her heart. _What if I hurt him too badly and he wants nothing to do with me after all I’ve done?_

“Tessa—”

“What if he’s changed his mind?” She nearly shouted the words as another wave of panic swept through her. _I cannot lose him!_

“He won’t have,” Cecily assured her quickly, gripping her arms. “He protects you. He has placed himself between you and those who threaten you time and time again. If you believe nothing else, believe that.” Her eyes softened and Tessa imagined for a moment that it was Will looking through them; they were so similar. “My brother would not care for you if you were undeserving of his affection, Tessa.”

Tessa smiled gratefully and opened her mouth to speak when the carriage lurched to the right violently, throwing both girls against the wall. They heard the horses cry out in pain, their hooves scrabbling to regain footing against the cobblestones and a shadowy form of a man flew past the window only to be thrown underneath the carriage and it jerked suddenly before the wheel touched the road once more.

Cecily gasped and Tessa squeezed her eyes closed already picturing the bent and broken mass of flesh and bone lying in the street. They had just driven over someone. Cyril had just driven over someone and felt no reason to stop.

Reason filtered back into Tessa’s mind. _It must have been one of Mortmain’s automatons._ She nodded absently and straightened in her seat. She would simply ask Cyril and put her worries to rest. Calling his name through the window, she waited for him to respond and heard nothing in response but the wildly beating hooves of horses and the clatter of carriage wheels.

Her heart leapt into her throat and Tessa swallowed roughly. “Cyril?” Her voice sounded thick and foreign to her own ears and she felt Cecily stiffen beside her; waiting for the response as raptly as she was.

There was only silence.

A feeling of foreboding settled over both young women and Tessa felt a familiar chill shudder its way down her spine. _No. Please no_. Her gaze cut to Cecily’s and she saw the grim determination there, watching as Will’s sister reached beneath her skirt and withdrew a seraph blade she had hidden there. “I’m a Herondale,” she whispered with a shrug, a small smile curving her mouth. “What can I say?”

Tessa chuckled despite her nerves and reached under her skirts to slide the handle of a sharp knife into her hand. She held it up and shrugged as well. _They weren’t teaching her to fight for nothing._


	4. Chapter 4

4

BUT DARK PLOTS ARE EVER WAKEFUL

 

  

 

_“Shortly after we were in bed I began my story, but made it so absurd,_

_so long, and so tiresome, that, as my intention was, I sent her to sleep,_

_and should have gone to sleep myself—but dark plots are ever wakeful.”_

—William Beckford’s _Vathek_

 

 

 

            Sharp cogs and jagged metal pieces flew through the air around them and Will could almost swear to it that parts of them were scratching against the outer wall of his heart. One wrong move might well spell disaster. Not to mention some other more colorfully choice words.

            “All right, Will?” Jem panted beside him, swinging his sword in an arch and severing the arm of a nearby automaton.

            Nodding, Will threw a seraph blade at a creature viciously attacking Henry on the other side of the room and saw it stagger before losing its head. Gideon finished it off with a thrust of his blade to its chest and it sank to the floor, oil and other liquid running from its wounds as Henry whipped around to plunge a second blade through the heart of another.

            Within minutes of Mortmain’s attack, the Crystal Palace had been flooded with Shadowhunters and they were just now finishing off the remaining automatons, but Mortmain had once again evaded them with that blasted silver ring of his.

            Will cursed under his breath and sheathed his remaining seraph blade. _I was so close!_ He kicked the unmoving body of the clockwork creature at his feet and cursed a second time, repeating the motion with gusto until Jem laid a hand on his arm.

            “That’s enough, Will.”

            “I could have killed him,” Will shouted, thrusting his foot into the creature’s side once again. “I could have ended it!” The look on Mortmain’s face once Will reached him in the center of the melee replayed in his mind. The old man had stood there, as cool and collected as ever with that malicious look in his eye that promised death, and he had _let_ Will get close enough to hear the threat he whispered. The threat that sent Will over the edge and had him ripping the world to pieces in an effort to get close enough to tear him apart with his bare hands.

            _“I will have her.”_ That evil smirk had pulled Mortmain’s lips into a sneer as Will had struggled against the automatons. _“And she will cry your name as she dies.”_

The promise was there, in those cold and soulless eyes, that Will at once believed him. He had tasted metal and knew his anger had taken control over him as he lunged toward Mortmain, thoughts of murder running through every fiber of his being. The automatons had been nothing in face of his anger, but their numbers were so great that it took several moments before Will could reach the place Mortmain had been standing when he twisted his silver ring and vanished.

“We will find him,” Jem assured him firmly, pulling him away from the wreckage and toward the doorway. “Make no mistake of that.”

“I will find him tonight,” Will snarled, still tasting a slight metallic flavor on his tongue. _He will never touch her!_ An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness surged through him and colored the edges of his vision red. “Let go of me, James.”

Jem tightened his grip and set his feet stubbornly. “Stop fighting me, Will. Tessa—”

“Do not speak to me of Tessa,” he hissed, renewing his efforts to free himself and wrenched his way out of Jem’s grasp. “Mortmain is out there, James. He is out there and she is not safe until we have put him in the ground. Do you understand?”

“Of course I understand, Will,” Jem replied, calmly and tilted his head to beckon Henry toward them. “But Cyril is delivering Tessa to the Institute as we speak, isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry nodded, his red hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “I sent them home straight away, along with Miss Cecily.” His brown eyes softened at the concern and anger still etched in Will’s face and gently laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure they are safely in their rooms, Will.”

Reluctantly, Will nodded and felt Jem at his side as they left the destroyed remnants of the Crystal Palace in their wake, still smoldering, and he wondered if the mundanes would blame the wreckage on a fire.

 

            Arriving at the Institute sent shocks down Will’s spine and an almost eerie sense of darkness hung over the place, but for a moment the shadows were dispelled as Charlotte hurried through the doors and into Henry’s arms as quickly as her pregnant body would allow.

            Will paid little mind to the couple as he ran toward the Institute doors, expecting to run headlong into either Tessa or his sister as he did so. The darkness seemed to thicken around him as he dashed through the hallways and threw open doors while shouting their names. He could feel Jem’s presence behind him and spun around to face him.

            “They aren’t here,” Will panicked, dragging a hand through his hair and pushing past Jem. He felt unhinged as he never had before and shoved his way through the doors and back into the filthy smog of London. A fresh sweat beaded over his flesh and he cursed his frustration into the fading sunlight, feeling the world around him spinning out of his control. _Where are they?_

            A scream split the night in the distance.

            Will was already running.

 

…&…

 

            Cecily could feel the heavy pressure of malice in the air and knew with a surety that it must be the work of Mortmain or one of his clockwork monstrosities. She knew this just as surely as she knew that Cyril was dead; that he had been the figure to fly past the window and under the carriage only moments ago. She had not seen his face, but the shape had been familiar and her eyes darted to Tessa on her left, clutching a slender blade in her fist.

            The clatter of the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the carriage were echoing against the tightly pressed buildings that surrounded them, but there was no sign of any other life in the area. The windows were dark and the doors were barred; the lanterns had been snuffed out and the streets themselves were devoid of beggars and match girls standing on the walk or huddling in corners between stoops.

            “Everything will be fine, Cecily,” Tessa whispered just as Cecily noticed the carriage slowing. “We will be all right.”

            Cecily rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on her seraph blade as the carriage continued to slow. Her nerves were on high alert and she rushed to remember all the moves and lessons she had learned while under Will’s instruction these past couple of months. “I am not worried, Tessa,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and aloof as she could manage. “I have had proper instruction in the way of the blade.”

            And then she winked, causing Tessa’s jaw to drop slightly.

            Tessa could not help it. She could not believe how similar Cecily was to her brother. That cocky wink was definitely something that Will would have done if the two had traded places and despite the growing unease around them, Tessa could not stop a giggle from escaping her lips.

            “On the count of three,” Cecily whispered, her eyes glued to what lay beyond the window and her hand gripped the handle of her door. “One.”

            Tessa followed her lead, clutching her own handle and braced to throw herself from the carriage.

            “Two.”

            Cecily could feel the darkness pressing down over them. If they did not jump now, there would be no escaping Mortmain at all. It was now or never. “Three!” She threw her weight against the door and heard Tessa do the same and then she was leaping from the carriage. Landing on the balls of her feet, she whipped around to see Tessa rising to hers, her dress covered in remnants from the streets of London, and quickly ran to her side, gripping her arm.

            “Are you all right?”

            Tessa nodded, glancing over Cecily’s shoulder with wide eyes before squeezing her hand tightly and pulling her forward. “Run!”

            A large man had just leapt from the front-facing bench and landed on the cobblestones at a run, his disjointed movements giving away what he really was. An automaton. As though to punctuate the fact, the automaton stumbled forward, snapping its leg at the knee and continued running after them.

            “Nice to know that hasn’t changed,” Tessa muttered sarcastically.

            Cecily surged forward, thankful for the speed rune Will had inscribed into her skin when she first arrived at the Institute. She kept hold of Tessa’s hand and weaved through the alleyways between the packed houses of the district to put as much distance between them and the automaton. The sound of feet behind them multiplied and she chanced a glance behind them to see nearly half a dozen clockwork monsters in hot pursuit.

            She cursed.

            “Cec—ily,” Tessa panted, pointing a finger down the alleyway. A line of automatons stood at the mouth, blocking their escape, and Cecily cursed a second time. Tessa pulled on her hand slightly, slowing their pace and jerked her head toward a door with rusted hinges on their right. “Here.”

            Cecily immediately threw her shoulder against it and the door swung inward, crashing against the wall and the sound of footfalls echoed in the dilapidated interior of the building. _We are not going to die. We are not going to die._ Cecily could feel the panic rising in her chest, a chill settling over her heart, and continued to repeat her mantra to herself through the haze that it had created. “Every…thing…is…going to be…fine,” she called over her shoulder, willing her words to be true.

            Jagged pieces of wood from the wall snagged and tore at their dresses and Cecily pummeled through a second door leading to the main road, only to feel something grab her front roughly and then she was flying. The stones of the street tore at her flesh and Cecily felt her arm snap under her weight as she crashed and rolled. She cried out in pain and struck out as an automaton scooped her up and locked her in its steely embrace. A rib snapped under its hold and a scream that pierced the night was ripped from her lips and she heard Tessa cry out, but could not see her through the spots in her vision. The pain was nearly blinding. “Tessa,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

            The world quieted and Cecily strained to hear the only set of footsteps over the pounding of her own heartbeat. They were slow and measured; they did not belong to Tessa. Her vision cleared briefly and she saw an older gentleman standing in the space between the captive girls. He was eyeing Tessa with obvious interest, nearly salivating with anticipation as he approached her.

            _Mortmain._

            “Miss Gray,” Mortmain greeted her. His mouth curled at the corners and his eyes glazed as his lying, serpentine tongue whispered her Christian name. The sound of it sent shivers of displeasure and nausea through Tessa’s body and she fought to free herself from the constricting arms of the automaton.

            Mortmain noticed and sneered before smoothing his features again. “You’ll have to excuse the uncomfortable position you find yourself in, Miss Gray. I have been trying to capture you for nearly a year and I do not wish for you to slip away from me as you have in times past.” His expression darkened as he turned to look at Cecily before becoming calculative. “Miss Herondale,” he said in his most pleasant voice, though her last name still somehow managed to come out as a curse. “I’d almost forgotten you were here. I suppose your brother possesses the bigger mouth.”

He took a step toward her and Cecily felt a cold radiate so deep inside her bones that it burned. Mortmain’s lips curled away from his teeth before he thrust a fist into her side, biting her lip to keep from crying out and giving him the satisfaction of knowing how badly that hurt.

“Leave her alone!”

He turned his eyes back to Tessa, her gray eyes blazed, glaring daggers at him as though trying to kill him with a single look. “One moment, Miss Gray. I will return to you shortly.” Mortmain smirked at Cecily and added, “There’s just the matter of sending the message I owe William. I would send it along with the woman he loves,” he glanced over his shoulder condescendingly and continued, “but that would complicate my plans and I think his sister will do quite nicely as a replacement, don’t you?”

Tessa felt her insides twist painfully at the thought of Will losing his only remaining sister and held her breath to stem the tears burning at the back of her eyes. _What am I going to do? Will cannot lose his sister._ A thought whispered that she needed to distract him and she looked around to see several dark shadows flit across the spaces between automatons. “Don’t touch her, Mortmain. I swear—”

Raucous laughter bubbled from his chest and Mortmain turned to face her, the expression on his face was filled with mirth. “You swear what, Miss Gray?” His eyes darkened and he struck Cecily across the face with the back of his hand, knocking her leg away as she kicked out at him. “You’ll glower at me in disapproval from way over there? My apologies, Theresa, but you are in no position to make threats.”

“Though I seem to be.”

Mortmain spun to see a nearby automaton crumble to the ground in three pieces. A light flared brightly against the darkness, far outshining the illumination of the lanterns that lined the street; a light as bright as daylight. More flared in the evening and the circle that surrounded them as the unsuspecting automatons fell in succession, but it was Will who stepped toward Mortmain, his blue eyes flaring with intense light.

“Move away from my sister, you bastard.” Will took another step forward, tightening his grip on the seraph blade without taking his eyes off of Mortmain.

A rueful smile spread across the older man’s face as he reached a hand into his vest, pulling out quickly to reveal a silver pistol in his hand. Will felt every group of his muscles tense in response, but before he could leap forward, Mortmain pulled the hammer back, leveling the gun at Tessa, and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” Mortmain’s brows raised in challenge. “You are fast, but you are not _that_ fast.”

Will quickly judged the space between Mortmain and himself, then between them and Tessa. It was not an _impossible_ distance, but…

Mortmain continued as though the tension encasing them was not thick with the promise of immediate and bloody violence. “Have you ever seen a Colt revolver, William?” He weighed the gun in his hand while still keeping the barrel trained on Tessa. “This is a rather new invention of mine, an alteration of Colt’s Model 1860, I admit, but I assure you it is far more accurate. Not to mention that the material I use for the bullets causes significantly more damage. Six shots in all.”

Will glanced from the gun to Tessa’s face and he could read the fear there, though she was trying to conceal it. It twisted his heart, panic rising into his throat, but he turned his gaze back to Mortmain and shook his head. “You are not going to shoot her.”

Dark eyes glared into Will’s as he called his bluff and Mortmain’s expression smoothed. “And are you willing to bet her life on that?”

“You need her. And you are forgetting that you are outnumbered,” Will replied calmly as he gestured to the dozen or so glowing seraph blades, though his pulse was now pounding in his throat, his eyes darted to the finger resting on the trigger. “We have you surrounded.”

“Perhaps.” Sighing, Mortmain pulled a second pistol from his waist before aiming it at Cecily. “But can you save them both?” Will’s eyes widened as the finger on each trigger tightened and he threw his seraph blade into Mortmain’s shoulder as the air shattered and the sound of a shot reverberated against the walls and street.

Will felt a sharp stab in his heart and he lunged toward Mortmain instantaneously, tackling him to the ground as a second shot echoed in his ears, heat rushing over his skin as the bullet whizzed past. Beneath Will, Mortmain reached for the silver ring on his hand and Will brought his hand down over the blade embedded in the old man’s shoulder, driving it deeper. He could already smell Mortmain’s flesh burning from contact with the seraph blade.

Mortmain brought his fist down on Will’s arm, pain exploding from the area and he hissed, his grip on the villain slipping for a brief moment. _The bullet must have grazed me_ , he thought, glancing at his arm to see the blood trickling down his skin _._ And still Mortmain fought to reach his silver ring.

Rage burned through Will’s veins and he ripped the blade from Mortmain’s shoulder with one hand, placing his knee over Mortmain’s chest as his other held down the old man’s wrist. _You are not getting away again._ The edge of the blade pressed against the third finger, with a little pressure and a quick twist, the finger separated from the hand with a soft pop.

Mortmain howled and before Will could plunge the blade into the mad man’s heart and rid the world of him, three pairs of arms pulled him off and held him back. A familiar voice shouted his name. Gideon. The red haze that filled his vision slowly dissipated as he watched one of his fellow Nephilim, he was not sure who, bind Mortmain’s hands and feet and stopped struggling against the arms that held him.

“Lock him up,” Will growled, “And throw the key into the Thames so he starves and rots like the bastard deserves!”

“Will.”

Gideon’s voice pulled his attention away from Mortmain and Will followed his gaze to see several Shadowhunters grouped around where his sister had been held captive. His stomach dropped into the soles of his feet and he rushed forward, pushing his way through to the center in a panic. _Not Cecily. No. Please. No. If Mortmain has harmed her, I will end his miserable existence._

To his everlasting relief and eternal shame, he recognized Jem’s slim figure lying sprawled in the street, blood soaking his silver hair and pulling the color from his skin. Cecily was kneeling beside him, holding his hand in hers and running the other over his hair. She was talking to him in musical, hushed tones and Will recognized the sound of a Welsh lullaby their mother used to sing to them at night when they had been scared. _Was Jem scared now?_ Will felt his heart pounding against his chest and realized that _he_ was the one who was scared.

“James?”

Jem turned his gaze from Cecily briefly, searching the air above him for Will’s face. “William,” Jem croaked as Will slid his hand into Jem’s empty one.

“You are going to be all right, James,” Will said quickly and with force, covering the wound on Jem’s chest with his free hand. Jem gasped in reaction to the pressure and squeezed the hand he was holding. “You cannot go where I cannot follow, James. I will not allow it.”

Jem laughed softly. His breath hitched and broke in places Will ignored, still focusing his full attention on keeping Jem on this plane. “Will…you cannot…”

“I can do whatever I want, Jem,” he interrupted, pulling his stele from his pocket. He quickly drew an _iratze_ to heal the wounds of his _parabatai_ , but the mark would not absorb into his skin and he drew it over and over again. Cursing, he held his hand out toward Cecily and snapped, “Your stele. Mine is not working.”

Tears were flowing freely down Cecily’s cheeks, dripping off her chin and she held out her stele to him despite knowing that it would not work. It was not the stele. Jem was dying. And it was because of her. She looked down at the gentle face staring up at her and brushed her fingertips over his face. When Mortmain withdrew that second pistol and pointed it at her, Cecily had no doubt in her mind that the bullet was coming for her.

She had closed her eyes. Waiting.

Then the arms of the automaton holding her had gone slack before two warm, gentle hands were cupping her upper arms. She had turned around and seen that it was Jem, but before she could say a word of greeting or gratitude, Jem had thrown himself in front of her as the gunshot rang through the street. His weight had struck her fully in the recoil and she had known, at the moment, what he had done.

Will was still trying to make an _iratze_ stick to Jem’s skin, but he was only paling more by the second. “Don’t leave me, James. You stop this. You stop this now,” he growled, ignoring the hand that was tugging gently on his arm. He jerked away, never taking his eyes from Jem’s, though Jem was no longer looking at him.

“It’s…all…right, Will.” Jem’s voice was barely more than a sigh. “Cecily…” She cupped his hand to her face, but his eyes flashed away from hers, panicked. “Tessa,” he gasped, his blank eyes darting around as though he could still see. “Where…?”

A slender hand pushed back the hair on his forehead and he could feel Tessa through the soft touch. “I’m here.” Her voice sounded choked, but soft and comforting at the same time. “You’re going to be fine, Jem.”

He moved his eyes, at least he thought he moved his eyes, toward her voice and swallowed. He could feel his body slowly failing and as much as it unnerved him, he was ready for the next life. _The wheel is forever turning_ , he thought to himself. _I will not be gone from this world for very long._ “Tessa…take…” His breath was getting shorter now and his gasps became shallow. “Take…care…of Will.”

It was utter bliss when his vision cleared suddenly and he could see Cecily leaning over him, her tears falling on his skin. She was so beautiful and it saddened him that he would not be around to be with her the way he wished to be. Will crouched on his other side, still trying frantically to trace a healing rune over his chest and placed a hand on his. “Leave it…William.”

Will looked up into the eyes of his most beloved brother and knew, before the last breath had left Jem’s body, that he was gone. His body lay still on the pavement and his chest deflated one last time as a serene expression settled over Jem’s face.

 

…&…

 

            Tessa lay awake in bed for hours, mostly for the fact that she had been crying much of the time and she reasoned that she should be exhausted from it, but could not bring herself to sleep. It might have had something to do with thinking that Jem was lost to an eternal sleep or perpetual darkness, whichever. It did not matter. All she could comprehend was that he was not here.

            And neither was Will. He had not returned from the funeral pyre the Enclave held two days ago. Henry had already searched every pub, inn, and opium den in the city; anywhere he thought Will might go to bury his sorrows, but came back to the Institute empty-handed each time.

            If he stayed away another day, Tessa determined that she would go searching for him herself and that she would not return without him. She would not leave him alone to suffer his days away. Jem had asked her to take care of him, as if she had not already decided she would do just that, and she intended to follow through. It was with these thoughts in her mind that she was finally able to close her eyes.

            Tessa could not have been asleep for more than an hour when she awoke to a pressure on her torso and reached a hand upward to brush it off when her fingertips came into contact with flesh. An arm? Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head slightly to feel warm breath on her cheek. “Will?”

            An arm snaked under her shoulders and both tightened around her body as a face pressed against her neck. “I’m sorry I woke you,” he whispered back.

            Tessa’s heart slammed against her chest and she had trouble breathing as she tried to control herself. “It’s alright.” The breath against her neck shook and his arms tightened again. “How are you?” She waited for his answer for a long moment.

            “I don’t know, Tess.” He sounded so broken. “Can I just—will you let me stay with you tonight?” The defeat was evident in his voice, expecting that she would deny him this and he braced himself for the impact. _Of course, she has yet to push me from her bed as is._ Will shook his head roughly and in response to her silence. “I’m sorry. I should not have asked.” He began to pull himself away from her when her hand pressed against his forearm, stilling him.

            “Stay.”

            Will’s breath caught and he held it for a long moment, convinced that she would take back that single, perfect word. Her hand wrapped around his elbow, pulling his arm to wrap around her shoulders and she was closer now. He could feel her breath on his lips and released his in a sigh as she wrapped her own arm around his waist. “Close your eyes, Will.”

            And he did.


End file.
